


By the Moon and the Stars

by dayishujia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance on a porch swing, Shiro's a military man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:16:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9732473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayishujia/pseuds/dayishujia
Summary: Keith contemplates his relationship with his boyfriend while Shiro's on deployment.There was only a week left of Shiro’s deployment, then he’d be back. At least for a few months until the next one comes along. They always come too soon, or so he hears.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [@alyabunny](alyabunny.tumblr.com/)  
> for talking this shit out with me and putting up with me yammering on about it
> 
> Just a lot of self-indulgent shit.

Keith sighs as he leans back against the hard wood of the porch swing. He used to love sitting out there – he used to be able to sit out there all night on that very swing, watching the fireflies dance in the breeze, the tall grass sway.

It just wasn’t the same without Shiro there, sitting next to him, brushing his fingers along his arm, breath tickling his neck, hair getting in his eyes.

Keith’s head falls against the back of the swing with a dull thump. His eyes stare, unseeingly, at the patio ceiling as if he could see through it and to the stars.

Shiro wouldn’t be back for another week.

Keith groans, his head lulling to the side. “How lame...”

He never thought he took all those nights for granted; the nights they spent on the swing just talking about nothing and everything, in the bed of Shiro’s truck just holding each other and staring at the moon, dancing in the headlights amongst the tall grass.  But sitting there, in that swing alone, he fears he might have.

Those nights watching movies together or the nights when they streamed movies separately with a chat open so they could rag on it. The nights when Shiro cooked him dinner, even if it was only spaghetti or hotdogs and sauerkraut. The nights when they fell asleep to the tinny voice of the other on a phone’s speaker.

He fears he took for granted all the times Shiro drove those miles to get from his trailer to Keith’s rancher; or all the times Shiro stayed up all night with him, just talking; or when Shiro would give him something and say ‘oh, it made me think of you’. But maybe he had. And now that Shiro was far away, taken from this little one-horse town and flown to the world beyond, Keith was realizing it.

“Keith.”

Glancing toward the door, Keith saw his uncle standing there, watching him with a frown. He wonders absently if that was the first time his uncle called for him, but judging from the look on the man's face, he knew it wasn't. “We’re going to bed. Don’t stay out here too late and get some sleep.”

“I will,” Keith says and he watches his uncle turn and go back into the house. He left the porch light on for Keith but the other lights in the house slowly flickered off.    

Quickly enough, the only lights still glowing was the dim porch light dangling haphazardly from the ceiling.

Keith sighs. His foot moves to kick lightly at the floorboards, rocking the swing a little.

There was only a week left of Shiro’s deployment, then he’d be back. At least for a few months until the next one comes along. They always come too soon, or so he hears.

He also hears that the first deployment is always the hardest. But Keith wasn’t inclined to believe that – they were all going to be hard. Until Shiro tells him he’s returning to civilian life and moving permanently back into this backwoods village, Keith doubts these long stretches without him were going to ever get any easier.

Keith was just about ready to go inside when out of the corner of his eye, he saw the twinkling of a pair of headlights.

Headlights at this ungodly hour was never a sign of anything good, Keith thinks as he stands and crosses the porch to stand at the top of the stairs. He watches the headlights come closer to their little house, jumping and twisting along the path of the old dirt road they called a drive.

The dirt road leading to his uncles’ farm used to be a source of great embarrassment for Keith growing up; where everyone else living closer to the village center had paved roads and driveways, Keith’s house had an unnamed, unmarked dirt road that twisted and turned through rows of trees and tilled farmland.

This year, the fields along the dirt road were full of overgrown grass and wildflowers instead of cornstalks in favor of utilizing the soil in the backfield.

Keith wonders if it’s the town sheriff or the deputy – or  _ both _ , depending on whatever it was that brought them out there.

Maybe it's the unlucky soul in charge of informing family their soldier was killed in the line of duty.

He watches as the streaks of light grow ever closer, illuminating the dusty old barn, his uncles’ trucks, the old rusted green tractor in the backfield. Slowly, the vehicle attached to the headlights inched into view. It was an old, minty-green Ford pickup.

It was a  _ familiar _ old, minty-green Ford pick-up.

Keith blinks and perks up, standing straighter, stretching his spine to try and get a better look.

As the pickup rolls closer to the house, Keith’s heart pounds faster in his chest.

That wasn’t the sheriff or the deputy. It wasn’t even an officer or a military official. It was Shiro.

That truck in the most hideous shade of green Keith had ever seen in his life was Shiro’s hideous green truck. He'd recognize it anywhere. 

The truck wasn’t even in park for a minute before Keith was launching himself off the porch and making a mad dash for the dashing young man jumping out from the driver-side door.

When he was close enough – yet still  _ too far _ – Keith jumps, propelling himself up and forward.

“Keith!” Shiro exclaims with a loud laugh, then a soft ‘umpf’ when Keith lands unceremoniously in his arms. He manages to both catch Keith’s smaller frame and keep them both upright despite Keith’s weight and the gravity urging them both to topple over.

With strong hands holding his thighs, Shiro holds Keith close and nearly cradles him, nuzzling at his hair.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” he says, breathing the words into Keith’s black hair. “It wouldn’t have nearly been such a good surprise if I had to ring the doorbell.”

“....The doorbell broke,” was Keith’s response. He buried his face further into the junction of Shiro’s neck and shoulder. The grip his hands had on Shiro’s uniform tightens as Shiro readjusts his own hands to support Keith better.

Keith didn't want to let go just let.

“Oh,” Shiro laughs. Keith could feel the deep vibrations in his own chest, the sound floating right past the shell of his ear. “Then it really, really wouldn’t have been romantic.”

“Not really,” Keith agrees. Then, “You’re back early.”

Shiro shrugs, going for nonchalance as he says, “I wanted to surprise you.”

Keith huffs. He doesn’t make any move to remove his face from Shiro’s neck or his clenched fists from the back of his uniform jacket. He waited far too long to hold Shiro again, to feel his warmth under his hands, to let him go so soon. Yet he does say, “You’re an asshole.”

To which, Shiro coos, “I love it when you sweet-talk me.”  

Keith grumbles in response, the noise being muffled in Shiro’s neck.

“Okay, you’re actually kinda heavy,” Shiro laughs. “I’m going to put you down now.”

Shiro moves to let Keith’s legs fall from his waist and help him down, but Keith refused to budge. He clung to Shiro tightly, as if Shiro might disappear if he let go – or let his feet touch the ground.

“Keith,” Shiro laughs louder now, freer, and Keith didn’t realize how much he missed that sound. It was like music to his ears, loud and full. He did his best to file the memory of the sound away, to be remembered when he needed to hear it again.

“Okay, Keith,” Shiro says. He stands upright again, hands coming back to hold Keith’s thighs and support his weight on him. “You win. But we’re going to go sit on the swing.”

Keith makes an indiscernible sound into Shiro’s skin and lets Shiro carry him across the yard, up the steps, and finally, brings him down to sit on his lap in the swing.

Keith’s knees bracket Shiro’s thighs and they sit in the middle of the swing, taking up nearly the entire length of it. Shiro’s hands rub gently at Keith’s back, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

“I missed you,” Keith all but grumbles. He hasn't yet extracted his face from Shiro’s neck or his fists from his jacket.

“I missed you too,” Shiro says softly, gently, and Keith's cheeks flush.

He snuggles impossibly closer. “When do you go back?”

“Let’s not think about that right now,” Shiro answers. He nuzzles the side of Keith’s face. “I’m here for now.”

Keith hums. “Yeah... okay.”

“Okay,” Shiro repeats just as softly. 

Suddenly the only noise was the chirping of cicadas, the breeze rustling the grass. And just as suddenly, Keith realizes he was granted another night with Shiro, just like the ones he feared he took for granted just moments before.

The realization had Keith shifting his grip on Shiro; instead of clutching his uniform jacket, one hand rests along the back of Shiro’s neck, fingertips bruising the soft hair there, and the other took to his broad shoulder, resting loosely over the material of his clothes. 

“What were you doing up this late?” Shiro asks, interrupting the cicada song.

Keith just shrugs and answers, “...Thinking.”

“About?”

Keith shifts in Shiro’s lap. “Nothing.”

And Shiro laughs and just says okay. So they sat there in the gently rocking swing, just holding each other. 

“I thought about you a lot over there you know,” Shiro tells him.

Keith snorts. “Inappropriately?” he teases, a grin spread out on his lips. “Why, Shiro…”

“You’re such a brat!” Shiro exclaims but he's laughing again and Keith's conniving grin turns soft. 

“Not like that!” defends Shiro. Then he adds, “Okay, maybe a little,” playfully pinching the skin above Keith's waistband. 

“No, just….” Shiro says. “I knew those months away were gunna be hard. I just don't think I really knew how hard they were gunna be.”

“It was hard for me too.” 

Keith pulls back, sitting up straight in his boyfriend's lap. Under the dim glow of the porch light, Keith finally got a good look at Shiro.

His hair had grown out a little since he got the required military shave and his skin was a bit tanner. His eyes were still the same, vibrant black. Yet there was something new, something different. 

Across the bridge of his nose, from one eye straight to the other, was a long gash. Healed now, but pink and scarred over. 

Keith blinks, horrified. “What,” he swallows, “what happened?”

“There was a minor miscalculation,” he says by way of explanation. Keith's frown deepens as his fingertips ghost over the scar. “But it's okay, Keith. I'm okay.”

Keith glares at him, as if the mere insinuation was a horrible offense, what with the permanent mark now adorning Shiro’s face. But his expression turned wounded as his attention shifts back to the scar.

“Did it hurt?”

“Keith,” Shiro warns, drawing out the vowels of his name. “Please. I'm alright. I'm not going anywhere.”

“You can't promise that,” Keith retorts, so quickly it surprised himself. 

“Keith.”

“Really, Shiro. You can't make me that promise. Since you graduated from the academy, all your promises voided. I can't plan a life with you if I don't even know if you're going to come home alive.”

“That's true of anything,” Shiro reasons levelly. “I heard Loretta’s mum was driving to work the day after Thanksgiving and was killed in a freak car accident. Nothing is promised, Keith.”

“That's not the same,” Keith exclaims. “She had time. She saw her mother every day. Talked to her every day. If you…. If something were to happen to  _ you _ …” Keith chokes on the thought. 

Shiro reaches up and cups his cheek, his thumb softly caressing the skin just below his eye. Keith leans into the touch, savoring it even if he was upset.

He continues, voice no louder than a whisper. “There are months where I don't get to see you outside a grainy computer screen. Days without a phone call. It's….” he shakes his head, “It's not the same.”

Shiro’s expression softened. He presses their foreheads together and says, “I know. I know and I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

Keith doesn't say anything. He just focuses on the way Shiro's mouth moves as his lips form the words to a promise not in his power to keep. 

A stray tear escapes his eye without his notice. He didn't even know they had been welling in his eyes until one escaped, rolling down his cheek. Shiro lifts his other hand and wipes it away.

He holds Keith's face and urges, “Don't cry, baby.”

“I'm not-” Keith sniffles, “-crying.”

“I love you, you know,” Shiro says. He nudges the side of Keith’s face with his nose. “More than there are stars in the sky.”

At the sound of the familiar phrase, Keith chuckles. “And I love you,” he says, responding the way he always did. “More than there are grass blades in the fields.” 

Shiro hums. “I'm glad to hear that.”

“Yeah, well….” Keith rolls his eyes. “It's hard not to.”

“I know it's unfair to ask you to wait,” Shiro says, suddenly serious again. His hands shift lower, resting loosely along his neck.

“You don't have to ask,” Keith tells him honestly, before Shiro could continue the thought. “I'd always wait for you.”

“God,” Shiro breathlessly exclaims,just before pressing a hard kiss to Keith's mouth. Then, against his lips, he murmurs, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“It's not what you did,” Keith answers. A slim finger jabs Shiro's chest, as if to serve as punctuation. “But what you will do.”

Shiro smiles. “Of course. I'm all yours.”

The words make the tips of Keith’s ears go bright red. “Just-” he snaps. “Take me to bed. I'm tired.”

Shiro kisses Keith’s temple and stands, gracefully lifting Keith up with him. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“And no funny business! That was no innuendo, smart guy.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ find me on tumblr](lilmissginge.tumblr.com)


End file.
